Anglo-Saxon period (and earlier)

Extracts, examples
'Kilhwch ac (and) Olwen' (a Welsh tale, the earliest Arthurian romance, and is one of Wales'
earliest existing prose texts).
'The maid was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about her neck was a collar of
ruddy gold, on which were precious emeralds and rubies. More yellow was her head than the
flowers of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her
hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the
meadow fountain. The eye of the trained hawk, the glance of the three-mewed falcon, was not
brighter than hers. Her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheeks
were redder than the reddest roses. Who beheld her was filled with her love. Pour white
trefoils sprang up wherever she trod. And therefore was she called Olwen.'

Caedmon's Hymn

Now must we worship the heaven-realm's Warder,

The Maker's might and his mind's thought,
The glory-father's work as he every wonder,
Lord everlasting, of old established.
He first fashioned the firmament for mortals,
Heaven as a roof, the holy Creator.
Then the midearth mankind's Warder,
Lord everlasting, afterwards wrought,
For men a garden, God almighty
 Runic Signature for Cynewulf’s “Fates of the Apostles”
BY CYNEWULF
TRANSLATED BY V. PENELOPE PELIZZON AND ROBERT HASENFRATZ

You who please your keenness with poems,

read closely here: can you discover

this verse’s framer? finishes.

Nobles enjoy it on earth, but not without end,
worldly ones. must fail
in our strongholds once our bodies scatter
their loaned treasure, like trickling through fingers.
Then and ear require skill
in night’s narrow cell; drives your craft,
a kingly servitude. Now can you see
who shrewd words have shown to men?
Remember my name, O you who admire
the sound of this song; help succor me
and pray for my comfort. Soon I must pass
alone, away to look for a dwelling,
must travel so far (no telling where!)
beyond this world to a yet-unknown
place in the earth. So must each person,
unless he is granted God-sent grace.
Let us call to God again, more eager,
begging his blessing in this bright creation:
may we be welcomed to his warm halls,
his home on high. There is holiest happiness,
there the king of angels crowns the pure
with a perishless prize. Now his praise endures
masterful and marvelous, and his might extends
endless and ageless over all creation. finit.
Dream of the Rood
What — most choice of dreams I choose
to chatter, what dreamed me in middest night,
once other chatterers crept to couch… (1–3)

Every inch bethinks me, what eye blinks to see,

tree of your dreams borne aloft on breeze,
dragged out in dazzle, brightliest of beams. (4–6a)

Thoroughly gotten in gold, poured & pouring,

a beacon, a trace — a sign. (6b–7a)

Gems from foreign corners

faraway fairness all enfolded,
like these five found uploaded
across this sibling span. (7b–9a)

Divine creatures cradle it each & every one

beauteous promise of things to become —
No longer some gallows for the guilty,
they nourished it, these holy messengers
watched it grow for human types
across this mortal garden,
matter & mold made famous. (9b–12)

Every tree a winner, & this one most of all —

and here I was splattered with sin,
impaled on my imperfections.
I gazed upon the glorious growth,
wreathed in its worthy windings,
joyfully aglow, garnished in golden:
gemstones gladsome bandaged its scars,
the wielder’s tree. (13–17)

Yet even through dearworthy dressings

I could still look upon its traumas,
wretched & old, so that it began at once
to sweat blood along its right half.
In every part I was dredged in regret —
I was afeared for its fearful beauty. (18–21a)

I witnessed the change, the streaking beacon,

warping its own in clad & color:
sometimes it was blood steaming,
swilling in trills & rills of ruddy sweat;
sometimes it was bedazzled with richness. (21b–23)

Yet I, couching there many long whens,

cradled that healing tree, raw in cares,
until I picked up on it echoing, resounding.
Most fabulous of the forest it flowed in words: (24–27)

“The years further, memories yet fresh —

hewn down at holt’s end,
dragged from secret dreamings.
Surpassing foes snatched me there,
stood me their own shivering spectacle,
compelled me to crop their criminals.
Carriers carried me upon their shoulders —
though I am no brother to them —
until they rooted me in their realm,
enemies enough fixed me there. (28–33a)

“Then I spotted the first free-born

racing bracing with bravado
to mount me up merrily.
Me there, I didn’t dare sway or shiver
unless lordly words should allow —
then I watched in wavering
the reaches, the distances of earth.
I could have mown these foes down —
yet stood I still. (33b–38)

“Unyaring himself then, this young —

it was god all-surpassing —
strong and set in purpose.
He mounted upwards on gallows,
heightened & humiliated,
impetuous in the imagination
of many & all, when he wanted
to undo his humankind. (39–41)

“I tremble in the man’s embrace —

Hardly dare to humble me to earth,
tumble down around distant regions,
obligated yet to tower right here.
I was areared a rood — tree, tower, & sign —
heaving aloft the hearty first,
heavenly bread-giver —
hardly dare to heel or halter. (42–45)

“They forced me through

with darkness, with nails —
Witness in me their woundcraft
the gashings of gnashing spite.
Hardly dare to savage that lot
making us shame, us two together.
I’m all ooze, bedrooled with blood,
sluiced from, juiced from his side —
once this one had flickered forth. (46–49)

“Me on hill, I’ve known so much,

the wrathing words. I watched
that being well-attended stretched
into agony. Shadows splinted
by clouds, sovereign raw flesh,
the blearing of the clearness,
darkness blown by & gone away,
skulking beneath stormy skies. (50–55a)

“All creation was wrung,

a hue & cry for first one’s fall —
The anointed was anointed,
as appointed —
Anyways they come cruising,
rushing in from afar to their noble.
I take all this inside. (55b–58)
“Pained perplexed & punctured —
yet I was bowed by crowds,
their hands humble-minding me,
my valor, my greatness. (59–60a)

“They snatched that almighty one,

hefting him from hard heaviness.
Fierce to fight, they’ve forsaken me
to stand there, made to drape blood,
put through with piercing. (60b–62)

“They laid him down, weary limbs,

attending him at the body’s head,
winding up the lord of heavens,
while that one slumbered for some time,
wearied by so much winning. (63–65a)

“Right away they wrung him a warren —

that company in sight of slayers —
carving it from carbuncle, chalcedony
setting him thereon, the player of fortune. (65b–67a)

“They set up too a sorrowing song,

wretching in eventides, wanting
to venture out at once,
wearied on behalf of
that ever-known lord—
still among that stilted circle. (67b–69)

“All of us, however,

gruching those good whiles,
footed the foundation,
as murmurings up & left,
of those battling off.
The carcass cooled—
lovely lively-hall—
when wicked ones lopped
us both, laid to earth.
Such a dreary outcome! (70–74)

“The wicked carved us down

into a cavernous cave.
Even still, lordful thanes
—said they were friends—
searched me out
and dragged me up
in gold and in silver. (75–77)

“Now can you hear,

O you mortal thing you,
how I waded through
the workings of ones
haunting their harrowing,
their sores, their sorrows. (78–80a)

“Now the season is very much upon us—

the hall arrived— when humans
clenched to earth, rooted wide & broad,
worthy me — and all these workings
widely renowned.
Beseeching this bright beech. (80b–83a)

“Upon me the child of god

travailed & tribulated some time.
And so, I tower tall once again,
under pendant skies,
pressed with potence,
now able to cure any one of you,
you who are as afeared as me. (83b–86)

“Back then I became

the worst of ordeals,
hateful to humanity,
before the lively way
was stretched out properly
for all those, the chatterers. (87–89)

“Okay, at that point in time,

the skipper of splendor,
worthied me above foresty trees,
the ward-keep of vaulted realms.
Just like he honored his own mother—
Mary, that’s her name—
above the lot of other women.
He was god all-surpassing. (90–94)

“Now let me charge you this,

my charming man, to unclose
this disclosing, speak it wordfully,
to all humanity — it is this glorious beam
that the ever-powered god pained upon
for the endless defaults of humankind —
even Adam’s ancient workings. (95–100)

Tasting death, he was mounded under

while this other lord mounted up
amid his manifold mights,
as helpmeet to humankind.
Then he shot into the heavens. (101–103a)

Soonward, he will strive

back to this middle yard,
seeking the seeds of mortals
on the day accounts are due,
the lord themselves,
god ever-compassing
among an angelic entourage,
the urge to judge upon them,
who keeps the right to reckon
each & every one, alone
just as they accrued in the earlier
during this loan we call life. (103b–109)

“Nor can any of them stand fearless

at the pronunciation
that the potentate proclaims.
They will inquire before the entirety
where the mortal might be
who dared to drink death’s bitters
in the name of this lord,
just as this one once did
upon the beaming tree. (110–114)
Yet they will shiver then
few imagining what they could
offer up to Christ in reply.
No need for any to dread there,
those who blazon the better beacon
across their breast — instead
they shall root out the realm
by means of the rood,
every soul who plans to keep
their reservations with the ruler.” (115–121)

At that moment, I put in my request

with that shining tree
with brimming heart,
courage overcupping
where I was lonely planted,
my own host scanty.
The channels of my ownsome
so very eager to ferry themselves
onto the forthwards ways,
greeting and meeting
all these whiles,
these miles of mourning. (122–126)

Now — my life hopes forward,

to find permit to trace the track
of that triumphant tree,
lonesome more often than not —
lauding those limbs as befits
more than other mortals.
The urge in me urges urgently,
the patronage of my heart rood-right. (127–131a)

How am I overfraught with friends

along the folds of the earth,
ever since they turned away
from the pleasances of this place,
flowing forthwards far from here?
They quested themselves towards
the chief charged in grandeur
cohabiting now in the celestiality
with the highest daddy,
glamping out in glory. (131b–135a)

Hoping my way all these days

for when this rood, lordly to me
the one I pour over here
on this plane, shall put paid
to the loan of my life
and then pack me up
towards where is every joy,
happiness through heaven —
where the captain’s crew
are seated for the cookout. (135b–141a)

There is a singularity of bliss —

I will be seated there as well,
where I may be granted
afterwards an abiding
in all this abundance,
living swell among the sainted,
brooking these blissings. (141b–144a)

Let the lord sponsor me,

the hallowed who swallowed
here on earth a forest of gallows
for the sins of their fellows. (144b–146)

Delivered from bonds

and given life, a home upwardly.
Anticipation was granted fresh,
draped in fruits & every fairness
to all those who weathered the burning. (147–149)

That child was surpassing. a sure bet,

poured into the cup of their way,
able and accomplished,
when they entered the fray,
the companionry of souls,
in the realm of god —
single hand on the rudder,
every every power (150–153a)

with angels as ecstasy

and all those sanctified,
the ones who climbed
before into heavens to abide
in all that splendor — (153b–155a)

when their wielder arrived,

divine power multiplied,
where their dwelling was. (155b–156)

The Wife's Lament

loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I draw these dark words from deep wells of wild grief,

dredged up from my heart, regretful & sad.
I recount wrenching wanderings I've suffered since birth,
both ancient and recent, that drove me mad.
I have reaped, from my exile-paths, only pain
here on earth.

First, my Lord forsook his kinfolk―left,

crossed the seas' wide expanse, deserted our tribe.
Since then, I've known only misery:
wrenching dawn-griefs, despair in wild tides ...
Where, oh where can he be?

Then I, too, left—a lonely, lordless refugee,

full of unaccountable desires!
But the man's kinsmen schemed to estrange us,
divide us, keep us apart.
Divorced from hope, unable to embrace him,
how my helpless heart
broke! ...

Then my Lord spoke:

"Take up residence here."
I had few acquaintances in this alien land, none close.
I was penniless, friendless;
Christ, I felt lost!

Eventually
I believed I'd met a well-matched man—one meant for me,
but unfortunately he
was ill-starred, unkind,
with a devious mind,
full of nefarious intentions,
plotting some crime!

Before God we
vowed never to part, not till kingdom come, never!
But now that's all changed, forever—
our marriage is done, severed.

So now I must hear, far and near,

early and late,
contempt for my mate.

Then naysayers bade me, "Go, seek repentance in the sacred grove,
beneath the great oak trees, in some root-entangled grotto, alone."

Now in this ancient earth-hall I huddle, hurt and oppressed—

the dales are dark, the hills wild & immense,
and this cruel-briared enclosure—an arid abode!

How the injustice assails me—my lord's absence!

Elsewhere on earth lovers share the same bed
while I pass through life, half dead,
in this dark abscess where I wilt in the heat, unable to rest
or forget the tribulations of my life's hard lot.

A young woman must always be

stern, hard-of-heart, unmoved, full of belief,
enduring breast-cares, suppressing her own feelings.
She must always appear cheerful,
even in a tumult of grief.

Now, like a criminal exiled to a distant land,

groaning beneath insurmountable cliffs,
my weary-minded lover, drenched by wild storms
and caught in the clutches of anguish, moans and mourns,
reminded constantly of our former happiness.

Woe be it to them who abide in longing!

Anglo-Saxon riddles
Ic eom wunderlicu wiht wifum on
hyhte
neahbuendum nyt; nægum sceþþe
burgsittendra nymthe bonan anum.
Staþol min is steapheah stonde ic on
bedde
neoðan ruh nathwær. Neþeð hwilum
ful cyrtenu ceorles dohtor
modwlonc meowle þæt heo on mec
gripe
ræseð mec on reodne reafath min
heafod
fegeð mec on fæsten. Feleþ sona
mines gemotes seo þe mec nearwað
wif wundenlocc. Wæt bið þæt eage.
Mec feonda sum feore besnyþede,
woruldstrenga binom, wætte
siþþan,
dyfde on wætre, dyde eft þonan,
sette on sunnan þær ic swiþe
beleas
herum þam þe ic hæfde. Heard
mec siþþan
snað seaxses ecg, sindrum
begrunden;
fingras feoldan, ond mec fugles
wyn
geond speddropum spyrede
geneahhe,
ofer brunne brerd, beamtelge
swealg,
streames dæle, stop eft on mec,
siþade sweartlast. Mec siþþan
wrah
hæleð hleobordum, hyde
beþenede,
gierede mec mid golde; forþon me
gliwedon
wrætlic weorc smiþa, wire
bifongen.
Nu þa gereno ond se reada telg
ond þa wuldorgesteald wide mære
I am a wondrous creature for women in
expectation,
a service for neighbors. I harm none of the
citizens
except my slayer alone.
My stem is erect, I stand up in bed,
hairy somewhere down below. A very
comely
peasant's daughter, dares sometimes,
proud maiden, that she grips at me,
attacks me in my redness, plunders my
head,
confines me in a stronghold, feels my
encounter directly,
woman with braided hair. Wet be that eye.
—Riddle 25 (Marsden 2015)
Some fiend robbed me from life,
deprived me of worldly strengths, wetted
next,
dipped in water, took out again,
set in the sun, deprived violently
of the hair that I had, after, the hard
knife's edge cut me, ground from
impurities,
fingers folded and a bird's
delight spread useful drops over me,
swallowed tree-ink over the ruddy rim,
portion of liquid, stepped on me again,
traveled with black track. After, a man clad
me with protective boards, covered with
hide,
adorned me with gold. Forthwith adorned
me
in ornamental works of smiths, encased
with wire
Now the trappings and the red dye
and the wondrous setting widely make
known
the helm of the lord's folk, never again
guard fools.
If children of men want to use me
they will be by that the safer and the more
sure of victory
 dryhtfolca helm— nales dol wite.
Gif min bearn wera brucan
willað,
hy beoð þy gesundran ond þy
sigefæstran,
heortum þy hwætran ond þy
hygebliþran,
ferþe þy frodran, habbaþ freonda
þy ma,
swæsra ond gesibbra, soþra ond
godra,
tilra ond getreowra, þa hyra tyr
ond ead
estum ycað ond hy arstafum
lissum bilecgað ond hi lufan
fæþmum
fæste clyppað. Frige hwæt ic
hatte,
niþum to nytte. Nama min is
mære,
hæleþum gifre ond halig sylf.
Beowulf
the bolder in heart and the happier in mind,
in spirit the wiser. They will have friends
the more
dearer and closer, righteous and more
virtuous,
more good and more loyal, those whose
glory and happiness
will gladly increase, and them with benefits
and kindnesses,
and they of love will clasp tightly with
embraces.
Ask what I am called as a service to people.
My name is famous,
bountiful to men and my self holy.
—Riddle 25 (Marsden 2015)
 Such was their practice,
Heathen hope (II. 178-9)

The Maker was unknown to them,

the Judge of all actions, the Almighty was unheard of,
they knew not how to praise the Prince of Heaven,
the Wielder of Glory. (II. 180-83)

Quote 1
So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
...
There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,
a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.
...
A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on
...
In the end each clan on the outlying coasts
beyond the whale-road had to yield to him
and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.
(1–11)

Quote 2
Beowulf got ready,
donned his war-gear, indifferent to death;
his mighty, hand-forged, fine-webbed mail
would soon meet with the menace underwater.
It would keep the bone-cage of his body safe:
...
[His helmet] was of beaten gold,
princely headgear hooped and hasped
by a weapon-smith who had worked wonders. . . .
(1442–1452)
Quote 3
O flower of warriors, beware of that trap.
Choose, dear Beowulf, the better part,
eternal rewards. Do not give way to pride.
For a brief while your strength is in bloom
but it fades quickly; and soon there will follow
illness or the sword to lay you low,
or a sudden fire or surge of water
or jabbing blade or javelin from the air
or repellent age. Your piercing eye
will dim and darken; and death will arrive,
dear warrior, to sweep you away.
(1758–1768)

Anglo-Saxon Prose
Bede: Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, Book I

PREFACE
TO THE MOST GLORIOUS KING CEOLWULPH, BEDE, THE SERVANT OF CHRIST AND PRIEST

FORMERLY, at your request, most readily transmitted to you the Ecclesiastical History of the English
Nation, which I had newly published, for you to read, and give it your approbation; and I now send it
again to be transcribed and more fully considered at your leisure. And I cannot but recommend the
sincerity and zeal, with which you not only diligently give ear to hear the words of the Holy Scripture,
but also industriously take care to become acquainted with the actions and sayings of former men of
renown, especially of our own nation. For if history relates good things of good men, the attentive
hearer is excited to imitate that which is good; or if it mentions evil things of wicked persons,
nevertheless the religious and pious hearer or reader, shunning that which is hurtful and perverse, is
the more earnestly excited to perform those things which he knows to be good, and worthy of God.
Of which you also being deeply sensible, are desirous that the said history should be more fully made
familiar to yourself, and to those over whom the Divine Authority has appointed you governor, from
your great regard to their general welfare. But to the end that I may remove all occasion of doubting
what I have written, both from yourself and other readers or hearers of this history, I will take care
briefly to intimate from what authors I chiefly learned the same.

My principal authority and aid in this work was the learned and reverend Abbot Albinus; who,
educated in the Church of Canterbury by those venerable and learned men, Archbishop Theodore of
blessed memory, and the Abbot Adrian, transmitted to me by Nothelm, the pious priest of the Church
of London, either in writing, or word of mouth of the same Nothelm, all that he though worthy of
memory, that had been done in the province of Kent, or the adjacent parts, by the disciples of the
blessed Pope Gregory, as he had learned the same either from written records, or the traditions of his
ancestors. The same Notheim, afterwards going to Rome, having, with leave of the present Pope
Gregory, searched into the archives of the holy Roman Church, found there some epistles of the
blessed Pope Gregory, and other popes and returning home, by the advice of the aforesaid most
reverend father Albinus, brought them to me, to be inserted in my history. Thus, from the beginning
of this volume to the time when the English nation received the the faith of Christ, have we collected
the writings of our predecessors and from them gathered matter for our history; but from that time till
the present, what was transacted in Church of Canterbury, by the disciples of St. Gregory or their
successors, and under what kings the same happened, has been conveyed to us by Nothelm through
the industry of the aforesaid Abbot Albinus. They also partly informed me by what bishops and under
what kings the provinces of the East and West Saxons, as also of the East Angles, and of the
Northumbrians, received the faith of Christ. In short I was chiefly encouraged to undertake this work
by the persuasions of the same Albinus. In like manner, Daniel, the most reverend Bishop of the West
Saxons, who is still living, communicated to me in writing some things relating to the Ecclesiastical
History of that province, and the next adjoining to it of the South Saxons, as also of the Isle of Wight.
But now, by the pious ministry of Cedd and Ceadda, the province of the Mercians was brought to the
faith of Christ, which they knew not before, and how that of the East Saxons recovered the same,
after having expelled it, and how those fathers lived and died, we learned from the brethren of the
monastery, which was built by them, and is called Lastingham. What ecclesiastical transactions took
place in the province of the East Angles, was partly made known to us from the writings and tradition
of our ancestors, and partly by relation of the most reverend Abbot Esius. What was done towards
promoting the faith, and what was the sacerdotal succession in the province of Lindsey, we had either
from the letters of the most reverend prelate Cunebert, or by word of mouth from other persons of
good credit. But what was done in the Church throughout the province of the Northumbians, from the
time when they received the faith of Christ till this present, I received not from any particular author,
but by the faithful testimony of innumerable witnesses, who might know or remember the same,
besides what I had of my own knowledge. Wherein it is to be observed, that what I have written
concerning our most holy father, Bishop Cuthbert, either in this volume, or in my treatise on his life
and actions, I partly took, and faithfully copied from what I found written of him by the brethren of
the Church of Lindisfarne; but at the same time took care to add such things as I could myself have
knowledge of by the faithful testimony of such as knew him. And I humbly entreat the reader, that, if
he shall in this that we have written find anything not delivered according to the truth, he will not
impute the same to me, who, as the true rule of history requires, have laboured sincerely to commit
to writing such things as I could gather from common report, for the instruction of posterity.

Moreover, I beseech all men who shall hear or read this history of our nation, that for my manifold
infirmities both of mind and body, they will offer up frequent supplications to the throne of Grace. And
I further pray, that in recompense for the labour wherewith I have recorded in the several countries
and cities those events which were most worthy of note, and most grateful to the ears of their
inhabitants, I may for my reward have the benefit of their pious prayers.